


We Will Not be Saved

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [17]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Heavy Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, So much angst, Underage Drinking, so much gay, such gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:51:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can’t be in love with me if you don’t even <em> know me.” </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Not be Saved

**Author's Note:**

> My friends, well, I do not even know.

Louis forced Zayn to get him a wet flannel, insisting that he was grieving and also fucked-out. He cuddled against Harry’s side as Zayn left the room, naked and rolling his eyes.

“Y’all right?” Louis muttered, eyes fluttering shut against Harry’s temple.

“Course,” Harry breathed out easily, voice. “I was pretty much made to suck dick, so.”

“Hey.” Louis’ eyes shot open, and he ran his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone, attempting at each moment to be kind.

“Yeah, I heard that. And hey, well. It’s true.”

“You’re made for anything you want.”

“I’m made for this,” Harry whispered, lashes fluttering against Louis’ cheeks. “Everyone tells me so.”

“Fuck what everyone has to say. Ignore that.”

“But I’m meant to pay attention to what you have to say? All of a sudden?” His voice was not harsh, simply resigned.

Louis’ mouth dropped open momentarily. “I’m—I didn’t—” he sputtered, grasping for words.

“You have my best interest at heart? Now? Babe. I love you, but no. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Stop it.”

“Can’t.”

“No. I need you to stop telling me you love me. I can’t hear it. Not now. Maybe not—not ever. Just stop it.”

“Don’t have to stop loving you?” Harry whispered, pressing his lips to Louis’ open neck.

“I don’t know, okay. Fuck,” Louis snapped without meaning to. “But Liam broke up with me because I can’t—fall in love with him, the way he wants me to. So you need to back up and deal with the same thing.”

Harry fell silent. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“And you’re not?”

“Sure I am.”

“I’m not. I’m just angry. That’s all I have room for, most days. Okay? Until I— _fix_ that, I can’t do anything else.”

“I can love you anyway.”

“You can’t be in love with me if you don’t even _know me.”_

“I didn’t say I was _in love_ with you. I said I _love_ you. There’s a difference.”

“Please stop trying to save me. I can’t deal with disappointing you on top of everything else.”

Harry sighed. “Your pillowtalk is depressing.”

“I’m having a sexual crisis, don’t blame me.”

With the impeccable timing he so often showed, Zayn emerged from the bathroom just in time to hear Louis’ pronouncement. “You’re not straight, you’re just angry at your ex-boyfriend.” He set the damp flannel on Louis’ chest and curled against Harry’s back.

“And you’re not angry at your ex-girlfriend?”

“Well,” Zayn said, considering this. “Mostly she’s upset at me.”

“For cheating on her?” Louis asked quietly.

“For—a lot of things. Being bi, poly. A cheater. Whatever. All of it. Slutty, too, I guess. Mostly she just rounded up to slutty.”

“One big bucket of fucked-up, we are,” Harry mused. Louis shifted away from him, moving the flannel so he could clean himself off. “Right,” Harry added next, extricating himself from their tangled limbs. “I’m gonna bogart your shower and re-evaluate my life choices.” With that, he left the room.

Zayn got up again, pulling on his pants and fishing in his jean pocket for cigarettes. “Ashtray?” he asked, surveying the room. Louis shrugged. “Fine, lazy arse.” He walked over to the window and opened it a crack before lighting up a cigarette. “You’re kind of a slob, ya know.”

“Whatever you say, bad boy.”

“’M not a bad boy.”

“You’re littered with tattoos, you smoke like a chimney, and your accent pretty much guarantees you’ve shivved at least two skinheads.”

“I’m not a bad boy!” Zayn snapped.

“Look at that smoulder, it’s intoxicating,” Louis teased.

“I’m just—some fucked-up dork with tattoos. That’s it.”

“And a penchant for fucking like a criminal.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, then spoke around his cigarette. “Like you know ‘ow a criminal fucks. Yer daddy can buy you out ‘f anything, no way you’ll ever see the inside ‘f a jail cell.”

“Except in one of those scared-straight programs, you know? Though I suppose it’s a little late to try to make me straight.”

Zayn removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaling slowly. “Oh, he jokes. Sexual orientation is so hilarious.”

“Well. Maybe it’s not hilarious if your girlfriend dumped you over it. Not something I’ve ever experienced really.”

He shrugged. “It was more the poly thing that ticked her off.”

“What, didn’t want to share you?” Louis sneered.

“Thought I was being a selfish horny prick, actually. I think _greedy_ was the word she used. That I should be glad I was getting any at all.” Zayn’s voice had gone low. Louis could hear him, but just barely.

“Christ, mate,” he said with a dirty smile. “Criminal to waste a body like yours, innit?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, whatever. Maybe you are just a horny teenage male who can’t leave well enough alone. So what.”

“You’re only too happy to reap the benefits, is that it?” Zayn glared at him, eyes predatory.

“How is it possible that nearly everyone I know likes to suck dick?” he wondered, slightly amazed, slightly stupefied.

“Maybe you bring it out in people. Like a gay fairy king.”

“Waving my magic wand?” Louis leered, throwing his hips side-to-side.

“You’re horrible. Stop it,” Zayn pleaded quietly. “Are we—what are we gonna do about Liam?”

“We?”

“I mean. Are you going to tell him about this?”

Louis shrugged. “He broke up with me. Til he figures his shit out, I’m just limping around being useless. And silent. Are you?”

Zayn scoffed, his brow furrowing. “Are you fucking mental? He’d punch my lights out. Then he would rip me limb from limb, use my femur to dig a ditch, and throw me into it.”

“He loves you too much for that,” Louis insisted.

“Stop it. Don’t play that game with me.”

“It’s not a fucking game! That’s what I’m saying. How many times do I have to say you’re each other’s end-all?”

“You know _nothing.”_ Zayn flicked his cigarette butt out the window, face gone stormy. “You know nothing at all.”

“I know you’re not as fucked-up as you think you are.”

“You’re such a sanctimonious cunt,” he snarled, shooting Louis a dark look, shuffling his bare feet against the floor.

“Someone uses big words when he’s angry, eh?” Louis propped himself up on one arm, smirking at Zayn. “If you’re gonna punch me, can I at least put some pants on first?”

Zayn glared, padding forward closer to the bed. “You make it so easy to want to hurt you.”

“Like it’s an accident,” Louis muttered, angling his face upward toward Zayn. He waited for a moment, predicting Zayn’s motivations and movements lazily. And then Zayn’s mouth was on his, teeth biting in angrily. Zayn pinned Louis’ wrists above his head, straddling his hips and grinding down hard. Harder than was necessary. Everything was harder than it ought to be.

Louis knew better than to fight it, knew better than to do anything other than let himself disappear into it, to press into Zayn’s angry touch. It was only like this, at times like this, that Louis felt his own anger seep out. He let someone else take over his rage for a moment, just _one-two-three_ and everything was gone.

Nothing mattered but the clawing grasp at his wrists or the bite at his cracking lips. Everything went still but his heartbeat, and nothing was important. He was not contained by his body. He could be anywhere. He felt like he was everywhere.

His hearing fizzed.

_Bring me back to life,_ he demanded inside his head, commanded some unseen god to do his bidding. 

If he could get anything from anyone—if he could ever request anything _at all_ from the world—he would want to be brought back to life.

Suddenly Zayn backed off, taking Louis’ sanity with him. He took Louis’ solace as though it was nothing.

“You think you’re so fucking funny,” Zayn growled, shoving against Louis’ chest roughly, moving off of his body and vacating the bed. He lit a cigarette before pushing open Louis’ bedroom window to lean out into the cool air. He stood wordlessly for many moments, refusing to look at Louis.

Louis threw himself off the bed, stepping into a discarded pair of trackies bundled near the corner of his room. Grabbing a rumpled t-shirt he thought might belong to Harry, Louis practically ran from the room, desperate for space.

He trampled down the long staircase to the ground floor, wild for something he couldn’t put a name to. He nearly slipped at the foot of the stairs, but he plunged forward, rounding out of the foyer and into the kitchen. He didn’t know what he was looking for—and wasn’t that always his problem, he was searching for something and had no idea what—before he stopped dead in front of the kitchen sink, peering at its spotless metal surface.

It was someone’s job to clean that sink for him, for his family, just like someone else did the dishes and the laundry and the shopping. Louis was unused to taking responsibility for his own life or for his own needs, and he found himself at odds with the world when he needed to do almost anything. When he needed to make a decision lately, it sent him into a panic. He let other people act on him and affect him because he knew if he relied only on himself, he could easily bring the world to ruin.

Louis spun around again, running himself ragged and dizzy. His teeth felt too sharp, his tongue gritting in his mouth. He huffed out a breath before grabbing a bottle of wine and uncorking it easily. He threw back a long swallow, the acid in the wine burning his throat and eyes and everywhere inside. He relented momentarily, taking a deep breath, before chugging what amounted to two large glasses-worth of liquid.

He started when someone touched his shoulder. He set the bottle down to greet Harry, who had entered the kitchen silently. “Do you need something? To drink maybe?”

Harry gave him a wide, easy grin. “I’m fine.”

Louis darted a hand out quickly, brushing a finger against the skin about Harry’s lip. He dusted away the white residue he found there, frowning. “Zayn needs to stay away from you,” he muttered resignedly.

“I’m fine, Lou. I’ll have a glass of water, if you’d like.”

Louis hiccoughed, bile rising in his throat. He leaned over the sink just in time for all the wine he had just swallowed to out all the way back up. Acrid wine and red alcohol tumbled out of his mouth, hitting the once-pristine sink with graceless noises. Louis groaned loudly and immediately Harry’s hand was at his back, rubbing small circles along his spine.

“It’s all right. Let it up. You’ll feel better in a minute.” Louis spit and shuddered, turning the water on to clean away his sick. Then he took a sip of water straight from the tap. “You’re okay, come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

They reached the top of the steps in time to catch Zayn leave Louis’ room. He gave a wan smile, ruffling Louis’ hair gracelessly. “See you later.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, moving to leave.

Louis caught Zayn by the wrist gently. “Thanks for coming over. Tell him I say hi.”

Zayn grimaced. “I’m not good with the pep talks. I’m not going to be able to force him to get his shit together so you two can kiss and make up.”

Louis rolled his eyes, pursing his lips against the acid in his mouth. “Just—take care of him, you prick. Yeah?”

“You’re going soft on me. Weird.” Zayn arched a brow.

“Everyone has a refractory period. Go away now,” Louis demanded.

Zayn rolled his eyes, flicking at Louis’ ear. “Whatever, loser.” He ducked around Louis and planted a kiss on Harry’s jawbone. “Bye, Haz.”

Louis aimed a low kick to Zayn’s shin, lightly glancing off when Zayn moved away. “Bye,” Harry muttered as Zayn trundled down the stairs. “Time for bed, Lou,” he added, leading Louis into his room, where they both sat down on the rumpled sheets.

“No thanks!” Louis crowed, looking at him expectantly. “Do you want to go shopping?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you aware what time it is?”

“Is it not Saturday morning?” he asked innocently.

“It’s Thursday. Maybe Friday at this point.”

“Whatever, I’m skipping school tomorrow.” 

“I thought you had, like, some punishment with the woman who keeps sexually harassing you.”

“Mostly I just stare at her rack. She’s not really harassing me, as such. Except for making me stay late to do menial tasks I wouldn’t even force on the help.” Louis shrugged.

“Lovely.”

“I’m skiving.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t care. I’ll be too wasted to go in anyway.” He curled into Harry, tucking an arm around his slender hips. “So. Want to go shopping?”

“Why? You gonna dress me up like your doll?”

“I think you were made for Burberry, H, I really do.”

“Because it rhymes?”

_“Yes._ Exactly, because it rhymes.”

“All right, fair enough. Come here.” He pulled Louis in tighter, cuddling him in close. “Go to sleep.”

***

“Hey. Wakey. Wake up. Come on, curly boy.”

“G’way,” Harry groaned, throwing a lanky arm over his closed eyes.

“No. Want breakfast. Come on.”

“Make it yourself.”

Louis pouted. “I was gonna offer to take you out and buy you brunch, but I see how it is.”

“Time is it?”

“Eleven.

“Kay. Gimme five minutes.” Harry smiled, eyes still shut, and he nuzzled into Louis’ neck.

“Five minutes to do what?”

“Steal your body heat.”

“Heat vampire,” Louis hissed at him, scrabbling without intent behind it.

“Aw, you think you’re so funny,” Harry whispered, wriggling into Louis’ warm body.

Louis froze, angrily reminded of the evening before. “I am funny,” he salvaged, feeling dejected without wanting to admit it.

“You could stick with your strengths. Like stubbornness. And the swoopy hair. And that swirly thing, with your tongue? Leave the funny to me.”

“You’re not that funny.”

“I am. If I offer to blow you, will you let me go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Harry whined, frowning.

“Because you’ll blow me anyway, and I want to dress you in Burberry.”

“Money won’t solve everything, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m getting rid of it.” Louis tried not to let rampant angry thoughts run through his mind.

“Pretty clothes won’t solve everything either.”

“It solves a couple things,” he insisted. “Like, it eliminates items from the list of things that aren’t pretty.”

“Um.”

“Like mini corn. That stuff is weird looking.”

“From Chinese food?” Harry asked, incredulous. Louis nodded. “Are you high?”

“You tell me. You took coke from Zayn last night.”

Harry’s face went still. “I’m not high.”

“You’re pretty.”

“Thanks.” He huffed out a sigh. “So. You mentioned brunch.”

“I did.”

“Does that include fruit plates?”

“Um. For weirdos it might.”

“I really like fruit!” Harry insisted, laughter finally present in his voice.

“You’re a fruit.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s early.”

“I know, that’s why I wanted to go back to sleep, Lou.”

“But I come bearing fruit.”

“Not for like, forty-five minutes. That is _so long_ to wait for fruit.”

“It’d be quicker if you’d get out of bed,” Louis pointed out, though his voice lacked the usual air of authoritativeness.

“But I still have to put on pants and my skinnies and my shirt, and that just takes ages.”

“Because your jeans are basically painted on? Yeah, that’s not my fault.”

“They show off my stems,” Harry whined quietly, once again nuzzling against Louis.

“You’re officially a movie starlet from the forties. Now be quiet and keep snoozing. I want to go shopping.”

***

“Ugh, stop it, you molester,” Harry said in undertones, slapping at Louis’ wrists weakly. “I don’t want to try this on.” He stood in front of a wall display of fitted men’s suits, a grimace ever-present on his face.

“It’s a beautiful suit,” Louis protested, pressing one finger to Harry’s back, leaning in to peer at the rack in front of them.

“And you’re a beautiful boy. Now stop trying to make me try this on. I have nowhere to wear it!” Harry insisted, throwing his hands up in despair.

“Wear it to my funeral.”

_“Not funny.”_

“It’s a little funny.”

“No.”

“If you try it on, I’ll give you road head later,” Louis whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Stop it!”

“It’s a tempting offer, come on. Consider it.”

“Why are you trying to dress me?”

“I just. That is. Um.” Louis paused, his face crumpling. “I. My stepdad doesn’t need this money so it might as well go somewhere pretty.”

“What the hell, Lou.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m fine the way I am!”

“Let me apologize for being a dick to you.”

“Being a dick to me?”

“Yeah, for everyone I ever—for everything, leaving like I did. In the past. Before.” Louis bit his bottom lip, cheeks flushing.

“You _moved away._ You moved away and my—my mother acted horrible but she thought she was doing right, and she didn’t let me do anything about it and it’s not about you, right? It was her getting used to me screwing up my life, and it wasn’t just about you.”

“I didn’t care that I fucked you over,” Louis whispered. “I tried to. And I cared about you. But I didn’t care about—that. Because I couldn’t. I couldn’t put it all together.”

“If you are honestly trying to convince me to take this damn suit into the fitting room to try it on, you are going about it all wrong.”

“Seriously? Because I’ll blow you where you stand if you don’t go back there. I’ll do it. I’ve got the social influence to get my record expunged.”

“I don’t,” Harry noted, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I’ll do it for you, obviously.”

“Stop it,” he demanded. “I’ll—fine, I’ll try it on.”

“Good boy,” Louis responded with a smile. When Harry glared at him, he added, “I’m coming with you.”

“Behave, please.”

“Shan’t.”

“Are you going to pretend to behave, at least?”

“Maybe.” Louis yanked a leather jacket from the rung beside the suit he had finally convinced Harry to try on. “I’m just going to try this on, innocent-like. Nothing to see here.”

“You are.”

“Bar me from your posh dressing room, if you’d like. The clerks will doubtless listen to your silver tongue.” Louis waved a hand into the air, wrist going campy. He refused to care.

“You’ve seen what I look light, right, you know no one takes me seriously?”

“Shut up. You’re—you’re beautiful, you are.”

“No, that’s not how it works. I get it. I understand. You—you get everyone and everything you want, you know? You get the pretty things, the excesses. You get it all. That’s who you are. That’s what has happened to _you._ But not me, all right, that’s not my story.”

“Yeah. Okay, fine. But if you don’t try this fucking suit on, I will absolutely blow you in public, and we’ll both get arrested. So it’s really up to you.”

“Sometimes—” Harry began before drifting off dreamily.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes I see why Zayn says he hates you. Even though he’s joking.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He’s not. He’s a good lad who needs to plant his anger and bad-person thoughts on someone else. I’m everything he hates, therefore he hates me.” Louis shrugged, ushering Harry closer to the changing cubicles. “He would hate that I’m making you try this on.”

“I hate that you’re making me try this on.”

“That’s because you don’t want me to feel put out. He’d hate it because it’s an embarrassment of excess.”

Harry stopped dead and rounded on Louis. “No, I hate it because you’re embarrassing _me.”_

“Stretch your comfort zone a little bit.”

“Look, can’t we just leave and you can find a nice store to buy yourself a Rolex?”

“I already have a Rolex.”

“Do you need a second one?” Harry pleaded from the middle of the shop, grappling at Louis’ hands.

“I have a second one.”

“Is it blue? If it’s not blue you clearly need a third one.”

“Stop making me contribute to my own consumerism.”

“You’re contributing to the world’s consumerism!”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a suit.” Louis gestured to the clothing in Harry’s hand.

“Oh my god we are having a domestic inside a high-fashion flagship store in London. Make it stop.” Harry buried his face in his hands.

“Fine, you don’t have to get it. But please try it on.”

Harry’s face surfaced, lightly pink with exertion. “If I try it on can we get frozen yoghurt after immediately leaving?”

“I thought you wanted me to buy a stupid watch.”

“No, just frozen yoghurt.”

“You’re going to let me pay?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re being a bit ridiculous.”

_“I’m_ being ridiculous? Really?”

“Just go try it on. You know I’m not going to let up.”

“Fine.” Harry sighed, hefting the suit gracefully over one shoulder. “I will show you for fifteen seconds and then we have to go.” He walked toward t clerk, who showed him to a changing room politely.

Louis smiled indulgently, pulling his mobile out of his pocket in preparation. Then he waved down a different sales clerk and gave her a winning smile. She left after a short conversation well before Harry opened the door.

“If you’re only going to pose for fifteen seconds, I’m prepared to take photos!” Louis called immediately, holding his mobile aloft as Harry peeked his head outside the cubicle.

“You’re basically a crossroads demon, Lou,” Harry said lightly before emerging from the dressing room slowly.

Louis held his camera aloft, snapping photos even as he surveyed Harry. His slender hips pressed delicately against the material of the dark trouser fabric, the rest of his legs looking long and slim. Hiss tight thigh muscles pressed against the fabric, making Louis’ breath go short. Harry hadn’t taken a dress shirt in with him to change, so he wore his t-shirt beneath the matching blazer. Louis’ mouth went dry as he glanced over Harry’s broad shoulders and wide collarbones beneath the thin material of his shirt and the dark wool of the suit.

“We should buy that,” Louis snapped, eyes glazing over.

“You hate this shit, I thought.”

“You look amazing.”

“Changing now!” Harry said, bright and angry, spinning on his heel.

“You’re a vision in black,” Louis exclaimed, grin wide on his face as he watched Harry enter the changing room again. “You won’t even need to get it tailoured much!”

“Leave me alone and look up nearby yoghurt shops, please,” Harry replied, shutting the door of the changing room behind him as he escaped Louis’ presence.

“Fine.”

***  
“Your taste sucks,” Louis muttered, eyebrow raised as he watched Harry put pineapple sherbet into his dish.

“It does not. Your choices are all cream-based. See if anyone ever blows you again, I swear.”

“Hey!” Louis swatted out sideways, connecting with Harry’s upper arm lightly. “Uncalled for.”

“Fine, whatever, you pixie twink, fine.” Harry cut him a sharp grin, biting his lip after.

“Take it back.”

“People will blow you until the day you die, my transgressions aside. I’m sorry.”

Louis smiled. “That’s how it’s done.” He considered Harry momentarily, but simply shook his head and walked over to add more pumpkin-spice frozen yoghurt to his dish.

“You’re very strange, you know,” Harry eventually said. “I can’t explain it.”

“Endless apologies.” Louis shrugged, turning away from him to join the queue to pay for their dishes.

“It’s not a bad thing. I’d follow you anywhere, really,” Harry responded, trailing along behind him.

“Shouldn’t do that.” Louis shook his head, elbowing Harry in the side.

“Why not?”

“I’ll lead you to ruin.”

Harry snorted. “Bit dramatic, you think?”

“Nope. I know just where ruin is. I’ll lead you there sharpish.”

“Whereabouts is ruin, then? Is it nearby?” Harry asked, ducking in to speak to Louis in low tones. “Care to show me there next?”

“It’s under my bed, next to a dirty jockstrap and a deflated football.”

Harry snorted again, rolling his eyes.

“And,” Louis added for effect, “a shrine I made devoted entirely to David Beckham.”

Harry nodded contemplatively. “Reckon Liam looks a bit like David Beckham.”

Louis shrugged. “Suppose so. Single-minded to a fault, I am.”

“That’s all right. I get like that with some things.” Harry considered this for a moment. “Mostly about fruits.”

Louis laughed loudly, causing Harry to give him an open-mouthed grin. His eyes shimmered, and his cheeks crinkled into dimples. Louis was fucked.

His track record was beyond abominable, he knew, particularly where pretty people were involved. His track record was mostly made up of douchebags and arseholes and a handful of closet-cases who called him slurs as soon as they got off. At the best, they looked at him with lust and vague interest. A worst, they looked at him with genuine contempt.

Harry looked at him like he was the best person in the world, and it made Louis want to die.

“I get the sense you’re going to be the death of me, Harry Styles.”

“Then it will be a pretty, pretty death indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am always sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr: musiclily
> 
>  
> 
> I hate myself and I want to die


End file.
